Highway to Hell
by Two Shakes of a Rat's Butt
Summary: Demons and Angels walk the earth, in a ferocious battle that's killing tens of mortals. As if Jane Edwards didn't already have enough on her plate. Taking the inevitable Apocalypse into her hands, she seeks out the two best hunters there is - Dean and Sam Winchester. But, something hidden is that Jane and Dean have history together. And she has a secret that could kill them all.


**Disclaimer: Seriously? If I owned Supernatural, I'd have already married Jensen Ackles. **

**Soooo...this is my first story. If you couldn't tell, I'm profoundly obsessed with Supernatural. OH MY GOD (well, if he ever showed) SEASON 9. I STILL HAVEN'T FINISHED 8, BUT WHATEVER. **

**Alrighties, shall we start the intro with Supernatural's theme song?**

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Fall of '96

It was the fifteenth time they moved schools that year. Changed homes, changed lives. But Dean Winchester could hardly argue. Most the time, he got sent to a school for at least a week, and then they were on the road again. That was fine with him. Hitting the road in his (er, his father's) Chevrolet Impala '67, jamming out to Kansas? That sounded like a good time to him. Plus, they got to slice 'n dice monsters like nobody's business.

This time, the Winchesters stopped in a small town right outside of Salt Lake City, Utah, called Bridgespeak. They stayed in a small motel beside a 6th-12th school titled Bridgespeak Academy. Dean was beginning to think everything was named after that God damned town. Even the grocery store (run by a kind old man) was named "Bridgespeak Stop 'n Sip". Despite the _original _titling of the town's shops, he could understand why they had moved there. His father, John, was searching for a pair of hunters to gain insight on a nest of vampires located somewhere in Salt Lake City.

"Be good at school," John had warned the Winchester brothers as they moved out the door. "Don't draw any attention to yourself. I'm talking to you, Dean." He gave his oldest son a threatening glare.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean dismissed his father with the wave of a hand. "I can't help it if I look like a God." With that, he tugged on his younger brother Sam's jacket. Scanning the scenery of his temporary home, he pursed his lips. It was a hell of a lot better than any place they stayed in before. It was fall, judging by the fiery-colored leaves that hung from trees and littered the streets and sidewalks. A cool breeze raked itself through his styled medium-brown hair.

The pair stopped in front of a tall, formal-looking school. Students loitered the front like hormonal ants, making out against the trees and flirting along the flowers. Big, bold words reading "Bridgeport Academy" were sprawled across the front of the school, hanging over an arrangement of glass doors. Having been used to moving educational facilities, Dean found himself at complete ease. His brother? Not so much.

"What if they find out we're…_hunters_?" Sam whispered feverishly as Dean walked him to his classroom. He laughed and ruffled his brother's hairs. Looking across the students, he found himself even more amused.

"These idiots?" He spread his arms out. "Ten bucks says half of them don't even know what an equation is." Sam gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. Sighing, Dean grabbed him by the color and stared him in the eye. "Trust me, Sammy, if any of these guys are mean to you…well, you know where I am." He let go and offered a comforting smile.

"Thanks," Sam grinned. He disappeared into his classroom, fingers through the loops of his backpack. Dean watched until his brother found his seat, and then set off to find his homeroom. The schedule his father had given him was written with tons of AP or IB classes. Sometimes, he wished that the stuff he'd learned hadn't stuck with him. Teachers expected a lot out of him in advanced classes, not to mention the pressure was unbearable.

But then again, Dean didn't really have to worry, did he? Maybe the teachers here would pressure him, but in a month's time they'd be halfway across the country. He stopped in front of Classroom 740 and took a seat in the back, where it was empty and quiet. Though, his efforts to go unnoticed were fruitless. Almost every girl in the classroom were shooting him flirtatious looks, to which he triumphed. Hey, he still was a 17 year old!

The chemistry teacher, Mr. Fitzgerald, was quick to introduce him to the class. He passed out instructions for lab, setting them down on each table. Dean groaned. First, he didn't have a partner. Second, he wasn't feeling the whole chemical-mixture thing. 'Course, he could do it if he wanted to, but at the moment all he wanted to do was stare at the hot blondie across the room.

"Sorry I'm late," A melodic voice excused. At the sound, Dean jumped in his seat, eyes darting towards the front of the class. A girl was rushing in, a duffle bag hanging at her side. Almost instantly, the breath was knocked out of him. She was…well, there's really only one word to describe her—brilliant. Her skin was ivory and seemingly flawless with pink cheeks that matched her lips, shining sea-colored eyes, and faint dimples that appeared when she spoke. She had long, curly brown hair shining with gold, braided over her shoulder though few loose twirling ringlets were loose.

"That's the third time this week, Ms. Edwards." Mr. Fitzgerald warned. The girl dropped her duffle bag by Dean's feet and sat down. She hadn't seemed to notice him yet. Immediately, her sparkling eyes glanced over the instructions, and then she went to work. Her hands were flying as she took measurements in Graduated cylinders. Had Dean been paying close attention, he would've noticed that she only had to wave her hand over the Bunsen burner to light it.

"Yeah, well isn't it the fourth time this week your wife has come home 'late'?" She retorted casually as she began to mix the chemicals carefully. She hadn't even bothered to put on her goggles. Mr. Fitzgerald glared at her as Dean fought back his laughter.

"_Jane Edwards," _He warned, narrowing his eyes to slits. The girl, Jane, was silent as she lifted up her purplish-blue beaker with a pair of tongs and set it over the flame.

_"Thomas Fitzgerald," _Jane glanced up at him before dropping a small droplet of a green chemical into the mixture. Immediately, it began to fizz. She triumphantly looked up at her teacher, arching an eyebrow as if to challenge him. But, that's not what drew Dean towards her so much. It was rather her attire—a loose AC/DC shirt that accented her hour-glass figure, tight blue jeans, and black Converse. "I'm finished, if that's what you need."

"Jane," Mr. Fitzgerald rubbed his temples and sighed. "Have you even let your partner help? This _is _a dual assignment, you know." He cleaned the lens of his gold-rimmed glasses. Jane gave him a bemused look.

"Partner? What partner? I don't have a-" Her words died on her lips as she gazed beside her. Instantly, Dean's eyes locked with hers. And they were…amazing. He'd never seen anything like them. Her irises were a colorful escapade of sea greens, oceanic blues, and storm grays. Gold surrounded the ring of her iris and around her pupil, speckling the ocean shades with flecks. "Who are you?" She sat straighter. "Who is he?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Dean Winchester." He announced proudly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jane looked to her teacher. "There's a reason I don't have lab partners, Thomas."

Mr. Fitzgerald glared. "How many times must I remind to you call me by my title?" She scoffed. "He is your chemistry partner, whether you like it or not. Think of this as a punishment for your firecracker prank last week."

Although she was angered, her lips curled upwards in a triumphant smirk. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Firecrackers?"

"I like to _work alone_," Jane enunciated, narrowing her eyes towards him. He stiffened in his seat. He wasn't used to being…well, rejected by girls. Usually, they flocked to him. This time…it was different. _She was different. _

Week Two of Bridgeport 

John had disappeared, but what was new? In the week he had gone, Dean became the father. 'Course, he'd always been the one to look out for Sammy. From making breakfasts and lunches, he'd made sure his younger brother got to school on time and went to sleep at ten every night.

Dean was restless. His muscles were tight with anxiety, eyes revealing his sleepless nights. He hadn't heard from his father since he'd left the week before. Hopefully, John had found the hunter-couple and they'd aided him on the disposal of a nest of vampires. On the other hand, Dean's basketball skills hadn't ceased in their times of hopping homes.

He caught the leather ball with ease, shooting from the three-pointer line. The ball sunk into the basket with ease and bounced on the grounded twice before the other player caught it. Before he was about to block James Sheffield, out of the corner of his eye he spotted something—_someone_.

A girl, with chestnut curls and striking eyes, jogged up the hill with ease. She stopped at the top, obviously searching for someone. She glanced back nervously at her gym coach and darted between the basketball game, disappearing into the school. Dean raised his eyebrows. He had half a mind to chase after her, but just as he was about to run after the stranger, the ball was passed to him, and the game continued.

Month One of Bridgeport

It'd been a month since the Winchesters had arrived in Bridgeport. It wasn't the longest they'd stay in a town, but it was close to being. John had found the alpha vampire; he'd also acquired the help of the hunter-couple. He'd check in sometimes, but otherwise he would be gone on the hunt.

"And then you divide X by 80 and get 10." Jane tapped Dean's math homework with a slender figure, using her other hand to grab a handful of sour rainbow strips. She tipped her head back and gulped them down, shaking her head from the sourness. "See?" She said with a mouthful of candy.

Dean cracked a smile. In the month he'd been in Bridgeport, he'd been his happiest. Of course, he hadn't left Sammy by himself, instead bringing him along to Jane's house almost every day after school. Sam was keen to playing with her dog, Jacob, and enjoyed the time he'd spent with the animal. It'd taken some time, but eventually Dean broke down Jane's forbidding walls and gotten underneath her skin.

"I don't get it," He replied dumbly. Jane gave him a stare.

"I know you're lying, Dean Winchester." She announced, falling onto the bed lazily. "Do your homework so we can go get ice cream." She ordered. He tossed his head back and groaned, filling in the last of his homework and slamming the math book shut.

"I was thinking..." Dean trailed off, crouching over Jane's slim body. His face hovered above hers. He watched how her cheeks flooded with color, eyes as big as the moon, staring up at him. "We could do something else?"

She cracked a nervous smile, her voice shaking. "L-like what?" She inquired awkwardly, blinking. Dean brushed a strand of loose curls from her eyes and bent his head so that their lips brushed. He felt his own heart pumping out of his chest. For a moment, he worried she could hear, but instead of it fading, it only grew. He was nervous. Dean Winchester. Could you imagine? Him, nervous? It was unheard of!

"Like this," He said softly, not trusting his own voice. Slowly, their lips met, the anticipation killing him. Almost immediately, tingles of electricity traveled from where their mouths touched to the edge of his toes, giving him a sense of adrenaline he'd never experienced before. Smiling, he pressed his lips again, using his arms to hold himself up over her.

"Dean…" Jane tried to speak, but cut herself off with another kiss. She moved so that she was straddling him, one hand running fingers through his soft brown hair, the other on his shoulder. He pulled himself away, his cheek against hers. Together, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of bodies.

Prom Night—'96

Loud voices rose in hotel room 843 of Motel Bridgeport (again with the clever names), shouts and yells. Sam Winchester sat on his bed awkwardly, legs crossed, as he witnessed his closet relatives (and so far, only) screaming at each other.

"For what?!" John exclaimed, angered spit flying from his lips. "Some girl you've known for a month!" Dean took a long, shaky breath, eyebrows tilted downwards and mouth twitching in rage.

"What's so wrong with wanting to go to prom!?" He shouted back. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. It took all his willpower not to deck his father right then and there. "Am I not allowed to have a normal life for a day?!"

John clenched his jaw. "I am trying to be a good father," He said lowly, "but if we stay here another day someone will die." Dean scoffed.

"You said you killed the vamps," He rolled his eyes. "Millions of people die every day," He continued angrily, "all I want to do is to take my girlfriend to prom." John shook his head and gave a bitter life. Despite all the commotion, deep down Dean was worrying. Would Jane be okay with his old suit? He was determined that she deserved better than…well, him.

"Are you listening to yourself?" John growled. "_Girlfriend_? Think about how you're 'girlfriend'," He made air quotes, "will feel when you leave. And by the way, the vamps aren't—" Dean froze.

"Shut up," He replied softly and nervously. Sam threw him a sympathetic look from his spot on the bed, to which he replied with a grim glance. Quickly, he grabbed his leather jacket off a hook and started out the door, his father's car keys already in his pocket.

Nevertheless, Jane looked amazing as always. Her white dress complimented her brilliant eyes, hair held back so that few loose golden-brown curls fell out. She stood on the porch, where Dean stood, and gave her muscled dad's cheek. He grunted when he saw Dean, but shook his hand and walked Jane down the steps.

"Chivalry does exist, eh?" She commented when the hunter opened her door. She slid into the passenger seat of the car while her boyfriend made his way around, hopping in beside her. "Chevy Impala '67, right? Nice car." She patted the dashboard appreciatively.

"You're the first girl to notice." Dean cracked a grin. Jane flashed him a teasing look as she rolled down her window.

"Have there been others?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and stuck a hand out the window, letting the cool air run over her slim fingers. Dean just smirked. "Well then, let's hope I don't find some girl's undies in here."

"Wanna add yours to the pile?" He joked, swerving into a parking spot. She didn't seem to mind his abrupt movements, instead flowing along with them. Jane rolled her eyes at his comment and started to open her door, but he'd already pulled it open, winking flirtatiously at her. She smiled softly and took his hand, helping herself to her feet.

The dance, overall, was completely boring. Jane and Dean had done every ridiculous dance in the book, from the square dance to where someone had to ask her if she was okay. They sat at a table where Jane downed spiked punch and Dean ate tiny cheese squares that were being handed out.

"Nice party, right?" She raised her eyebrows, glancing around at the large disco ball which reflected millions of tiny little beams of light across the room. He nodded in agreement. "Wanna da…" Her words died on her lips as her eyes caught on something by the punch table.

"What's wrong?" Dean glanced to where she was staring. The feeling he felt was as if he'd been punched in the gut. It couldn't be…his dad and the hunters had…his mouth went dry. Tens of pale, needle-toothed vampires stood by the doors. "Jane, get out of here." He gulped, standing up.

She didn't reply. As she opened her mouth to speak, another voice beat her to it.

_"GET OUT!" _John yelled, ushering teenagers out of the dance hall. Dean turned to pull Jane out the doors, but she'd vanished. His heart began beating faster, body pumping with adrenaline. Where was she? He caught a flash of golden-brown hair in the crowd and felt himself crush.

Jane stood in the midst of the vampires, something long and silver gleaming in her hands. Just as Dean was about to grab onto her, something gripped the collar of his suit, pulling him back and out the door. He screamed and launched himself forwards, but a larger, much stronger body blocked him from entering.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Dean saw a hunter standing on the roof, spilling gasoline into the room and the building. The fire alarm was going off as faculty members gathered outside, confused and dazed. He wanted to rush inside the school, but something—someone was holding him back.

Jane's eyes met his. A machete lay on the floor, covered in blood, as she was taken into the captive hands of the bloodsucking leeches. Her lips were parted. The look on her face was anything but angsty. Instead, she looked absolutely _pissed. _One the vampire's gazed towards Dean as another gripped her hair, pulling her head so that her neck was fully exposed.

He was frozen. Dean stared at Jane, eyes wider than the moon, jaw agape. What was he to do? His father had him constrained against his chest, the screams drowning out in his ears as if they were muffled by earplugs. She gulped, but she didn't look afraid. But he was. Because he knew, staring into her gold-flecked eyes, that that would be the last time he'd ever see them sparkle…see them shine. He watched as a blonde vampire threw her head back, exposing needle-thin teeth, and sunk them into the young girl's exposed neck.

Suddenly, the school went ablaze. Colorful flames burst through the windows, shattering the glass immediately. The heat blew his hair back from his face, singing his skin. A loud, pained shriek came from inside the high school. Dean screamed back. He knew who had shrieked—and he never wanted to hear that sound come from her mouth. He knew, staring up at the burning building, that his Jane was gone.

For good.

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